


All Night Long

by somuchforbaggles



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Language Kink, M/M, Noisy Dean, POV Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2018-02-04 20:11:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1791709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somuchforbaggles/pseuds/somuchforbaggles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one knows Dean's sex playlist more than his roommate, and no one hates it as much either.</p><p>Castiel hates that stupid playlist, especially the stupid song that kicks it off.</p><p>Until he doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Night Long

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gothicmiriel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothicmiriel/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Miriel! Have a wonderful day, and I hope you like this :D <3
> 
> Inspired by [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lo2qQmj0_h4) song.

_No_ , Castiel thought as that instantly-recognisable guitar riff started playing at full volume in the room next to his.

 _Please, no_ , he inwardly begged as the drum kicked in and Dean’s bed-springs began creaking.

"Not tonight," he groaned as Brian Johnson started singing and his roommate’s guest started moaning.

Castiel didn’t care if the person Dean had brought back was ‘a fast machine’, he just wanted _one_ quiet Saturday night in. Some friends he had complained to about Dean’s antics said that Castiel was merely jealous that his roommate was getting more action, but it wasn’t about that at all.

He almost wanted to find out how they liked it when the same AC/DC song blared through their thin walls every other night, not to mention the loud moans coupled with it.

Bending his pillow around his head in a makeshift pair of earmuffs, Castiel screwed his eyes shut as he tried not to think about his roommate getting screwed, tuning out the muffled creaks and keens. If it went on all night long, like the damn song promised, then Castiel would have to Gilda’s across the hall - that was if Gilda wasn’t being shook all night long too by her girlfriend.

Sometimes, Castiel resented answering the ad looking for a roommate in _The Herald_.

Thankfully after a few songs (all AC/DC; apparently Dean found he performed best to them), the playlist was switched off, and Castiel got his reprieve. All he heard from then on was the occasional resonating murmur of Dean’s deep voice, and not for the first time, Castiel drifted off to it.

The smell of bacon floated through the gap under his door, and Castiel woke sniffing the air.

Bleary-eyed, he padded out into the kitchen, finding Dean in front of the stove. With a yawn, he sat heavily at the breakfast bar and rested his cheek in his palm. Castiel almost fell back to sleep, but the clattering of a plate startled him wide awake.

"I hate you," he croaked at Dean.

Dean smirked and tonged a couple of rashers onto Castiel’s plate. “No you don’t.”

Hash browns and baked beans joined the bacon, and holding his hands out for cutlery in a well rehearsed gesture, Castiel glared at his roommate.

"Well, I hated you last night," he rectified.

"Sorry," Dean shrugged and said with no hint of an apology in his tone. Under his breath, he added, "Don’t hate me ‘cause you ain’t me."

Castiel raised his eyebrows in mid-cut of a hash brown. “Excuse me?”

"I’m just sayin’," Dean shrugged again. "You need to get _laid_ , Cas. Pronto. You’re grumpy and it’s cramping my style.”

"Who needs to get laid?" a throaty purr of a voice asked before Castiel could protest.

The voice belonged to Dean’s latest lay, a girl Castiel hadn’t met before, and she was wearing nothing but one of Dean’s dress shirts. Castiel raised just one brow at that. Those shirts were in the deepest recesses of Dean’s closet, and he certainly hadn’t gone out wearing it.

Dean jerked the tongs in Castiel’s direction before winding an arm around his guest’s back.

"My buddy Cas here."

The girl thought for a moment while Castiel bristled, and slid a hand up the front of Dean’s sleep tee.

"Well Cas," she started, and Castiel immediately didn’t like her, just because she used Dean’s nickname for him, even if he was fully aware that she didn’t know any different. "What’s your poison? Girls? Guys? Both? Neither?"

Castiel chewed for a few seconds, then swallowed when he saw fit to answer the question she had no business in asking.

"I like anyone, so long as I find them interesting and they can make me laugh."

"Which, believe me, is no easy task," Dean muttered in his guest’s ear (in what Castiel recognised to be his ‘sexy’ voice), winking at his roommate when she giggled.

"I hate you," repeated Castiel, maintaining his less-than-sunny demeanour when Dean laughed and strode over.

"I know, buddy."

Kissing the top of Castiel’s head and ruffling his already ruffled hair, Dean then led the girl back to his room, her strawberry blonde hair fanning out as she turned and near skipped back to bed.

As the opening bars of the worst song in the world began, Castiel belatedly realised that Dean had only made one breakfast - Castiel’s. And plans hadn’t been made for two more, either.

He hummed. Maybe he didn’t hate Dean so much after all.

Upon having to hear the rest of the song alongside hushed moans, Castiel decided that actually yes; he hated Dean Winchester very much.

Castiel walked through the front door, keys jangling from the ring looped on his finger, and thanked the Lord when he heard nothing but the buzz of the fridge. With a skip in his step, he grabbed yesterday’s leftovers from it and sat at the table, munching away quite happily.

He had to cherish the quiet when he could.

In fact, the reason he was so happily cherishing the quiet that night was because it had been quiet for the previous six nights. Castiel kept opening the door bracing himself to hear _the_ playlist, but he was only met with silence, or with the sound of the TV on and forgotten about.

Castiel’s content chewing was interrupted by thoughts of _why_ Dean hadn’t been playing his signature song while getting it on with some stranger. He wasn’t sick, as he wasn’t weakly demanding soup, so what was it? Had Dean lost his famous touch?

When Castiel finished his meal, he toed over to Dean’s room and knocked on the door. A grunt granted him entry.

Dean was laying tummy-down on his bed, reading by lamplight. The room smelled stale, like the function of an opening window had eluded him, and the drapes were closed though it was still light outside.

“Dean?” Castiel said in a small voice. “Are you alright?”

After a few seconds, Dean’s head snapped up, his eyes wide, and in general he reminded Castiel of a deer caught in headlights.

“Hey, Cas. I’m, uh, good, yeah...good. Thanks.” Dean sounded dazed, and was switching between blinking too much and then not at all.

Castiel frowned in concern. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, yeah, just...caught up in stuff,” replied his roommate, sitting up and turning his book over, steepling his place. Dean rubbed his eyes, and his lips curled into half a smile.

“Were you worried about me?” he asked, surprised. When Castiel said nothing, Dean smiled fully, lighting up the dim room. “Aww, Cas, that’s sweet.”

Making the few steps to seat himself in Dean’s computer chair, Castiel rolled his eyes and remarked, “I was only asking because I haven’t heard you... _entertain_ in a while.”

Dean laughed, a tiny thing, and clapped a hand on Castiel’s knee.

“You miss hearing me have sex?”

“No,” Castiel scowled. “Definitely not.”

“You totally do.” The remnants of Dean’s laugh still hung on his lips, and his hand still lingered on Castiel’s knee. “ _You…_ ” he started whisper-singing, “ _shook me all night long!_ ”

Castiel’s scowl deepened. “Stop that right now, Dean.”

“ _Yeah you-u-u, shook me all night lo-o-ong!_ ”

“I hate that song and I hate you.”

Dean grinned and bounced off his bed to shake his ass and continued singing, “ _I’m working double time on the seduction line, Cas is one of a kind, and he’s just mine all mine!_ ”

Averting his eyes as Dean paraded in front of him, Castiel covered his ears and pouted. However, his ears weren’t protected for long as Dean threaded his fingers through Castiel’s and held their hands out to the sides as he clambered on Castiel’s lap and straddled it, still singing, albeit a little out of tune.

“ _Wanted no applause, it’s just another course. Made a meal outta me, and came back for more…_ ”

He sang the rest of the verse, and by the chorus, Castiel was laughing at Dean’s over-the-top writhing and air-guitar playing, and was slightly fascinated by the way his mouth moved around the lyrics like it was making love to them. When Dean leaned away after his big finish, arms thrown up and head tipped back, Castiel had no choice but to wrap his arms around Dean’s torso so he wouldn’t fall off the chair.

Dean swayed forward again, as though his and Castiel’s hearts were magnets, and smirked, catching his breath through his flaring nostrils.

“Are you done?” Castiel asked, looking up at Dean and hoping he sounded more bored that he felt.

“Yep,” answered Dean, showing his teeth in victory.

Rolling his eyes and sounding a little too fond, Castiel muttered, “I hate you, Dean Winchester.”

“You say that so much, I’m beginning to think you mean the other thing.”

Dean winked, then ran his fingers through Castiel’s hair, dirty fingernails scraping the base of the dark mess, and patted his stubbly cheeks with the corner of his lip quirked.

“No, I definitely mean that I hate you,” Castiel said without conviction.

“Then I hate you too, buddy,” Dean said with the same amount of conviction.

Sliding off of Castiel’s lap, Dean retreated to his bed, his back to the wall, and looked just about ready to purr, he was so pleased with himself. He tapped the spot next to him, inviting Castiel to join him, and when Castiel did, he leaned his head on his shoulder. His head was an almost comforting weight in the dip of Castiel’s shoulder, and grew heavier when Dean exhaled.

“It’s just the adios, you know? Always the adios,” Dean murmured, so quiet it was barely heard.

“The adios?”

“Yeah, you know - you get drunk, shack up, then say ‘hey, that was fun’ in the morning, and then ‘adios’. I mean, the sex is good, like _really_ good, but sometimes it just makes me feel bad.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”

Dean snorted, but Castiel didn’t think it was in humour.

“‘S why I’ve been layin’ off getting laid, ‘cause I don’t know, it kinda makes me feel like crap,” he said lowly, though no one would overhear.

“Maybe you need to find someone you don’t have to say adios to.”

Dean shrugged and scratched his nose. “Maybe.”

They stayed like that for only a few moments longer, a whirring mind resting on a strong shoulder, and Dean only sat straight and ushered Castiel out with a small smile when he declared he wanted to read again. Castiel didn’t mind the urgency in which he was asked to leave. It was just how Dean was. He’d done this before, telling Castiel something rather intimate and then panicking and shutting him out. Last time, Dean bolted after shamefully admitting that a girl had made him try on her panties, and that he’d liked it. He didn’t talk to Castiel for three days after that.

Dean wasn’t amused when he’d said a bashful _‘hey’_ to Castiel and Castiel referred to it as the second coming of Jesus.

But now Castiel knew that Dean desired a longer companionship than one that lasted one night, a plan began to form. One that wouldn’t involve the playing of a certain song for a good while.

He was going to find his roommate a date.

The plan was in motion.

Dean liked men and women, but didn’t like to label his sexuality. Apparently, that made it ‘real’. However, it was mostly women that Castiel saw in Dean’s shirts after the couple’s game of _How Long Can We Keep Castiel Awake_ , so Castiel started going through the list of women he knew. There was Gilda across the hall, but her girlfriend disqualified her. Jo was single, but then Castiel crossed her off after remembering the whole unrequited thing she had for Dean. In fact, the more ladies he named, the more he realised had already crushed on or dallied with Dean, or were out of the question entirely because of their opposing sexualities.

Then, while Castiel chewed through stale cereal the next morning, it struck him so hard he dropped his spoon.

Anna.

As far as Castiel knew, Dean hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting Castiel’s other best friend (the first being Meg, but Castiel wouldn’t say they were ever pleased to meet each other), and it was perfect because she was back in town in a couple of days. They’d arranged to meet elsewhere, but if she agreed to meet at his and Dean’s apartment, and Castiel just _happened_ to be out, then Anna and Dean could get a headstart on feeling things for each other.

Castiel’s palms itched, and suddenly he understood why the villain always rubbed their hands together after a scheme had formed.

# 

It was easy enough to ‘forget’ something at the store, and to instruct Dean to welcome Anna should she arrive while Castiel was out.

Of course, because Castiel prided himself on his meticulous timing, she did.

Anna and Dean were sitting very closely on the couch when he arrived, and Castiel watched for a few seconds, pleased.

They shifted towards each other, seemingly enchanted, and the door slammed behind Castiel a little louder than he intended. His best friend and his roommate jumped apart, their connection severed by the noise, and as Anna looked at him sheepishly at the same time Dean grinned, the cereal box dented in Castiel's clenching fist.

Anna jumped up and ran to Castiel to hug him tightly. “Hey, Castiel,” she smiled into his chest. Then, whispering, she said, “Dean’s hot. I knew my riding lessons would come in handy one day.”

Grimacing, Castiel pointed out, “Anna, your parents own the _stables_.”

She laughed and hugged him again, ruffling his hair as they parted. People liked to ruffle Castiel’s hair, and he usually let them; it was too tempting not to play with, everyone said. Anna was no different, as Castiel had seen his fair share of bows and braids growing up with her.

“Oh, I’m only home for a week,” she said, her hazel doe eyes widening in sympathy when Castiel’s face fell.

“I know, it’s short, but...I have an interview for a job in New York next week!”

Castiel perked up. “An interview? For what?”

With a smile blooming, Anna revealed, “For a magazine! The people there found my blog somehow, and they emailed me about an opening in their travel department. I’m going to get paid to travel! If I get the job, that is,” she added, bringing herself back down to Earth.

“Of course you’ll get it, you’re an exceptional travel journalist.”

Castiel really thought so, too. Though his passion for travel and learning about new places was only a fraction compared to Anna’s, he read every post of hers, and often pored over the archives of her blog, and not just because he missed his best friend.

She beamed at him, and they set out for the day to catch up and shop for interview-wear (which Castiel didn’t know was a thing), crashing on the couch with pizza in the evening. Dean joined them for the last part, and Castiel watched as his two friends got on famously, a twinge in his gut when Anna received _the look_. Then again, he had just eaten a third of an extra large pizza, so he blamed it on that. After all, who tries to set their friends up and then feels sick when it works? Not Castiel, that’s who.

When it got late, Anna went home, leaving the last slice of pizza and a warm, empty seat next to Castiel. Dean scooched to the warm spot silently asking if it was okay if he ate the last slice, and silently, Castiel assented.

They were doing that a lot, recently. Silently talking. Reading each other’s minds with no more than a gesture or an expression. They had spent the most part of a year as roommates, but were only really beginning to become good friends. Dean hadn’t helped with his music taste, but Castiel supposed he hadn’t helped by radiating grumpiness, either.

“Anna’s nice,” Dean said through his food.

Castiel said nothing, suspecting that Dean would continue once he’d wolfed his mouthful down.

His suspicions were correct, as Dean swallowed and tentatively probed, “She got a boyfriend?”

“No.” Castiel almost wanted to snort with derision. Anna wouldn’t dream of tying herself down with a relationship while she travelled.

“Girlfriend?”

“She dated Ruby for a while, but no.”

Dean’s eyebrows practically disappeared into his head. “Ruby? As in Sam’s Ruby?”

“Yes. They separated when Anna started backpacking. But she’s mostly straight. She once told me that she was straight give or take Ruby, which I think is sweet.”

Grunting, Dean remarked, “Ruby’s a bitch.”

“She’s not my favourite person either.”

Ruby really wasn’t Castiel’s favourite person. He was obligated to be at least civil to her when she was dating his best friend, but as soon as the couple broke up, Castiel treated Ruby the way she deserved to be - with disdain and scorn. Ruby was a piece of work who currently had her claws in Dean’s little brother, Sam, who was besotted.

The only thing Castiel could say to ease Dean’s mind about the subject was that Ruby would get bored soon enough. Dean didn’t like thinking about how Sam would feel after being dumped, but at least Ruby would be out of their lives.

The couch _schhfffff_ ’d as Dean fell to the side to lay down. Dean crossed his ankles on Castiel’s lap, and looked up to the ceiling as the two lines between his brows indicated he was thinking hard.

“Do you think Anna’d wanna...hook up, or go on a date or something, before she leaves for New York?”

Castiel’s plan had practically succeeded, and he felt nothing.

“She’s certainly attracted to you,” he monotoned, not missing the way Dean’s face lit up.

The thing was, if Castiel knew Anna wasn’t staying for long, he wouldn’t have tried to set her and Dean up. The plan was to get Dean into a happy relationship, not to parade him around as someone to be fucked and left, and what was currently happening was the opposite of the plan.

“Yeah,” said Dean distantly. “I’m gonna ask her out.”

A few nights later, Castiel had to leave the apartment in fear of hearing the noises his best friend made when she was being thoroughly eaten out.

He knocked on Gilda’s door, and was greeted with a gentle smile. Her dress floated gracefully as she spun to lead him in, and the scent of vanilla and violets welcomed him, as well as the homely array of pillows. Gilda loved pillows. She had them in all sizes, shapes, and stuffs - that’s what Castiel thought the inside of them was called, anyway.

Gilda flicked the kettle on, and while she waited for the water to boil sat on her favourite pillow, a large rectangular one that depicted all of Barker’s Flower Fairies. The skirt of her dress fanned out around her, and she gestured for him to take a pillow too. Castiel parked himself on a plump, round one, a pillow he had grown fond of over the past year. The bottom was leather the colour of mahogany, and the top was tan, like his trenchcoat, with clashes of forest green and electric blue. Strictly speaking, it was a very ugly pillow, but Castiel liked it very much indeed.

“Would you like tea, Castiel? Or coffee?” Gilda asked, the soft light creating a halo around the caramel outline of her curly hair.

“Tea, please. I hope to fall asleep tonight.”

“I take it Dean is making love quite loudly?”

Castiel looked down and gave a strange smile at the use of her words. “Quite.”

“Perhaps it would do you some good to make love loudly, too,” Gilda remarked, eyes crinkling.

“I think competing would only bring out the worst in him.”

“I think you’re right.”

She smiled brightly before getting up to ready mugs for their tea. “Is chamomile all right?”

“That would be wonderful, thank you.” Castiel sounded slightly dazed, but only because being in Gilda’s apartment gave him the sense of being a little high. It was all pale yellow lighting obscured by drapes and scarves, smoky from incense, and quiet music featuring instruments he had never heard before.

Castiel really wouldn’t be surprised if Gilda was one of the Flower Fairies she loved so much.

A steaming mug was placed into his hands, and he sipped while enjoying the sounds of the sea scoring a wind instrument. It was better than AC/DC, at any rate.

He asked Gilda how she was, how Charlie was, and then how her job was going. Not that Castiel knew Gilda’s line of work. For some reason or another, she was incredibly secretive about it, and it showed when she only met his query with a knowing smile.

Maybe she really was a fairy.

The fairy of sheltering poor humans when their roommates were having loud sex with the human’s best friend.

In his lethargy, Castiel put this forward to the fairy, and she laughed and said, “You caught me, Castiel. I am of the fae realm, sent to protect the ears of innocents.”

He didn’t quite believe she was kidding, but mumbled something about ‘not being as innocent as people thought’. He had sex, sometimes. Just because he favoured a romantic relationship first, didn’t make him naive.

Gilda stroked his arm in comfort he didn’t really need, her sleeve trailing over his fingers when she drew her hand in. He shot a heavy-lidded glance at her sharp but gentle features, and waited for his tea to wake him up a little more so he could put some energy into keeping quiet when Anna and Dean were asleep.

Castiel was thoughtful like that.

He asked for another tea before he got even more tired and bitter.

Castiel snuck in when the beat no longer throbbed through the door, and tip-toed to bed, but not long after he settled down, a vertical line of light surprised his nearly-sleeping eyes.

“Cas?” a low voice whispered.

Castiel concluded that Dean wanted to brag about the amazing sex he probably just had, and pretended to be asleep.

“Cas?” Dean repeated, the floorboards creaking underfoot as he entered. “You asleep?”

“Yes,” came Castiel’s croaky quip.

“Anna left.”

 _Oh_. Replaying Dean’s small voice in his head, Castiel recognised pain in it. “Adios?”

“Adios.”

Sighing and willing himself awake, Castiel shifted from the centre of his bed to the side, inviting Dean to sit.

Dean did not sit. Instead, he took the invitation of sitting on the edge of half a bed and laid on it atop the covers.

“She got a text about a mare having difficulties birthing a foal. It’s not bullshit, right?” he asked in the dark.

“Not at all,” Castiel said as reassuringly as he could. “While I am her best friend, she has cancelled plans on more than one occasion because of her horses. They always come first; they’re the family business.”

“Okay,” Dean said, nodding and somewhat satisfied. “Okay.”

Expecting Dean to leave, Castiel settled down to sleep, but the weight by his side did not lift. In anything, at one point it just shifted to get more comfortable - meaning the weight slid under the covers.

“This is not your bed,” he strained to say, fighting unconsciousness just so he could emulate a starfish with no one in the way.

“ _Dean_.”

A singular snore prompted Castiel to think _fuck it_ , and he fell asleep, ignoring the way Dean sought out his bare skin and huffed until he found a whole torso of it under Castiel’s shirt.

Anna came by a few times before she went to New York, and her each and every visit finished in Dean’s bed.

The tan and leather pillow at Gilda’s never saw so much of Castiel’s ass as it did on those nights.

Not that Castiel minded that his best friend and his roommate were making happy. He minded that Dean would always crash after she left, and that three times now he’d creeped in to sleep in Castiel’s bed.

It wasn’t the sleepy clinginess he was fussed about, no. It was the fact that three times Dean had slept in Castiel’s bed, and on each of those nights, Castiel had dreamt of the both of them in Dean’s bed, doing other things than sleeping - while that dreaded song played, of all things.

All three times, he’d woken up harder than usual, and all three times, Dean had already retreated to his own room.

All three times, Castiel started his day more confused that when Dean referenced something he didn’t understand.

Anna popped round the day she was leaving, and parted with Dean by kissing him, just once, softly on the lips. Dean’s eyes met Castiel’s when they fluttered open, and there was something in them that looked a lot like longing.

Castiel didn’t even know Dean had it that bad for her.

He hugged his best friend tightly and wished her luck, and told her to call regardless of whether she got the job or not.

# 

If he was being perfectly honest, Castiel thought that Dean would spend the next week in his room, burying himself in books and in his work, but that was not what happened. Dean instead buried himself in men and women alike, and said _Adios_ to more people than there were days in the week.

First, there was James, a handsome young police officer who gave Dean more than a pat down, then Donna, a woman who was all soft around the edges and stayed for lunch, and then it was all men from there, which Castiel supposed he could read in to if he tried hard enough.

The worst part of it was that Castiel stopped holding his pillow around his ears when the men came round.

Dean made the most - how could Castiel put it in a way that didn’t make it sound like he wanted to jerk off to them - delicious noises when he was with a man. All happy moans and overwhelmed keens, and the _talk_ Castiel heard was the dirtiest he’d ever heard. There was no doubt that Dean was bottoming.

And didn’t that just remind Castiel how long it had been since he’d bedded someone like that.

The last relationship he’d been in was with a woman, and since they broke up, he found himself missing men more and more - and it most definitely had nothing to do with hearing the multitude of men Dean brought home.

Night after night, Castiel listened to Dean entertaining his...male friends, and eventually that stupid song became the bell to Castiel’s Pavlovian penis.

The morning after Dean had been shook all night long by a broad, muscular man with blue, twinkly eyes, he grinned as he danced gingerly around the kitchen.

“I,” he announced, pouring milk in Castiel’s bowl of cereal, “am going on a date tonight.”

Dean’s eyes crinkled around the edges, and so did Castiel’s as he looked up at Dean over the breakfast bar, chin in hand.

“I take it there was no adios, then?”

“Well, I don’t know the Spanish for ‘see you later’, so I guess not.”

“I believe it’s _hasta luego_ ,” Castiel said with a crunch at the end.

Dean froze. “You know Spanish?”

“Un poco.”

“Oh God.” Dean shuddered. “Please don’t ever talk Spanish to me again.”

“¿Por qué?” Castiel asked, a smirk around his spoon.

Melting into the bar stool and hiding his face in his folded arms, Dean said something weak and muffled.

“¿Dean?”

Dean made a whimpering noise at the use of his name in the hot accent, and peeked up at Castiel.

Barely audible, he admitted, “I... _like_ it when people talk Spanish.”

Castiel smiled and leaned in, whispering conspiratorially, “You like it? As in...you have a language kink?”

“Yeah,” Dean said in a very small and embarrassed voice.

Reaching over and patting Dean on the head, Castiel gave a small laugh. The man who had no shame about his roommate hearing him have sex was embarrassed about said roommate knowing about a certain kink. Dean had never been cuter.

“There is no need to be embarrassed,” he said reassuringly, his comforting hand moving to Dean’s arm. “Everyone has kinks.”

“Oh yeah? What’s yours, then?”

Castiel chewed thoughtfully. “I like it when people get turned on hearing me talk Spanish.”

Snorting, Dean called him an ass, but perked up considerably.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty,” he added in a mutter before leaving to get dressed for work.

Castiel finished his cereal in silence, save for soggy crunches, a smile hanging on his lips.

A text buzzed through Castiel’s phone as he walked home from the store he worked at, cutting through the sounds of the sea currently playing in his ears. It had been that kind of shift.

**Dean**  
Today, 20:19  
 _You done with work?_

It was from Dean - not from Anna with news of the interview, as Castiel had thought. Maybe he was making dinner. Castiel sent back the affirmative, and no sooner than he had put his phone back in his pocket, it buzzed again.

**Dean**  
Today, 20:20  
 _Cool. How far away from the Roadhouse are you?_

Oh yes, Dean was on a date tonight. Perhaps it was going badly, and he needed to be rescued.
    
    
      _Not far. I’ll be with you in five minutes at the most._
    

Thankfully he’d walked the long way tonight, so The Roadhouse was on the way home. Otherwise, Dean would have probably had to endure a whole date with a guy who had a great body but a not-so-great personality. That was the impression Castiel had gotten anyway, in the two seconds he had met the man.

**Dean**  
Today, 20:20  
 _Lifesaver!_

popped up on screen, and after a few more minutes of listening to waves crashing on an unknown beach, Castiel rounded the corner to the bar.

Dean waved him over from a booth at the back, and Castiel was slightly confused to find the opposite seat empty, with no warmth whatsoever radiating off the worn leather.

“You...needed me?” he asked, frowning and sliding into the booth.

“Hell _yes_ I need you,” Dean said with a relieved but wavering smile, linking his fingers through Castiel’s and holding them when they were attempted to be snatched away. “Go with it, please? I need you to be my date. He hasn’t shown, and I don’t want people to think I’ve been stood up.”

“But you have been stood up.”

“Jeez, Cas, kick a man while he’s down, why don’t you?”

“Apologies.”

Dean’s eyes tracked everyone in the bar, assumedly making sure everyone knew he wasn’t alone, and absent-mindedly toyed with Castiel’s hand.

It was actually quite nice. Castiel got the feeling that Dean had done this before, maybe when he invaded his bed on a night that he felt particularly lonely.

“Take a look at the menu, come on. Don’t wanna look suspicious,” Dean urged.

Resisting a chuckle, Castiel asked, “Are you paying?”

“What?”

“It’s customary for the person who asked the other on the date to pay for the meal.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Fine. As long as you put out.”

“I’m making no promises,” said Castiel, smiling over at his ‘date’ in a way that could only be described as sickly sweet, had he the range to be.

# 

It was actually a good night, and one of Castiel’s better dates, if he classed it as such. The food was great, as usual (they both had special places in their hearts for the burgers, but didn’t know that about each other), the music was decent, despite not being sounds of the sea, and the company was...well, it was interesting.

He’d learnt things about Dean, things that couldn’t be known with the throw of a glance, which was their main method of communication. Like that fact that Dean played four instruments (guitar, bass guitar, drums, and trumpet, the last Castiel never would have guessed), secretly always wanted to be a teacher, and had a car (his baby, apparently) that he was currently restoring.

No wonder Dean scored so much. Everything about him was attractive, even his tiny flaws. It wasn’t fair, really.

And he’d even flirted with Castiel, if it could be believed. Full on flirting, as Castiel had seen him do with all of his guests. Only when Dean looked at Castiel, there was something else in his forest green eyes too, something that intrigued him endlessly and tempted him to explore that sublime forest.

Dean had even initiated a game of footsie, something Castiel had never quite understood until he had a boot threaten his denim-clad groin, and at that he’d sat ramrod straight and closed his legs with a blush while Dean grinned wolfishly.

At the end of their ‘date’, Dean excused himself for a few minutes, and Castiel entertained himself by making patterns in the leftover sauce on his plate with a fork while he waited. To the pricking of his ears, the fast beat and complicated guitar riffs of the background music stopped with a halt, and a piano playing a simple four chords floated over the speakers. A quiet snare kicked in, and the hint of record-noise really caught Castiel’s attention.

_[Earth angel, earth angel, will you be mine…](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VJcGi4-n_Yw) _

He looked up and over across the bar to the jukebox, where Dean was beckoning, a soft smile adorning his features. Neglecting their empty plates, Castiel walked over to where his roommate the date was shuffling awkwardly.

“We gotta convince everyone that you’re really my date, right?” Dean said gruffly, somehow looking up at Castiel though he was taller, and holding out his hand palm-up.

“Right,” confirmed Castiel quietly.

He took Dean’s hand and was willingly pulled onto the slightly shinier hardwood that was supposedly the dancefloor. They swayed as The Penguins sang, nervously at first, but after shyly smiling at each other, Castiel clasped his hands behind Dean’s neck as Dean clasped his around Castiel’s lower back, and they slow-danced for real.

“This is one of my favourites,” Castiel murmured.

“I know.”

Castiel didn’t question how.

“I’m surprised you didn’t play AC/DC,” he said with a smirk.

Dean snorted. “Sha, ‘cause I really want a hard-on in the middle of our first date.”

“This is only the middle?”

Looking up at Castiel through his lashes again (which Castiel still wasn’t sure of how he achieved), Dean bit his lip until it matched the colour of his teeth, and shrugged. Taking a sharp breath through his nose, he released his lip, that delectable pink rushing back, and said, “I was kinda hopin’ we could go home and maybe watch a movie or something, I don’t know. Or maybe I could make you dessert, or I could _be_ your dessert, but I don’t want it to end with the check, ‘cause I really like you, Cas, like, I _really_ like you, and I know I’m like the city’s bike, but -”

Dean’s words melted as Castiel chastely kissed them away in a warm second.

“I think I’d like you to be my dessert,” Castiel said, brushing his lips upon Dean’s once more, and letting their hearts be magnets once more as he rested his head on Dean’s shoulder.

“I’d like that.” Dean’s reply was coupled with a kiss on the top of Castiel’s head, one unlike any other he had ever done. It lingered, and Castiel could feel his hair standing on end as the smell of his shampoo was breathed in.

“By the way, I will be severely disappointed if you do not shake me all night long,” he said pointedly, tapping his fingers on the back of Dean’s neck with the slow beat.

Dean’s laugh was loud and beautiful in Castiel’s ear, and Castiel beamed into his shoulder at the way his heart swelled with the sound.

But something sad seeped through, and Dean’s laughter died down. Seriously, he said, “And I’ll be just a little heartbroken if you say the old _adios_.”

“Saying adios means moving out, Dean, and I like our place.” He pulled away to share what he hoped could be a loving gaze, but seeing the kicked puppy face that Dean swore only his little brother could pull off, Castiel added, “I like _you_ , Dean.”

Dean grinned bashfully and met his eyes. “Good, ‘cause I like you too.”

“Bueno,” Castiel said, walking his fingers up Dean’s neck to play with his sandy hair.

Groaning and surging forward to meet Castiel’s mouth, Dean chuckled into it as _Earth Angel_ switched to _[Ride On](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XNdagpIgItw)_.

Something grew hard on Castiel’s thigh, and with a pat to Dean’s butt, they left the bar, only stopping for Dean to throw down a twenty on their table.

 

Castiel awoke to a pair of lips getting to know the ins and outs of his neck, and he smiled lazily as he croaked, “Hola, Dean. Buenos dias.”

A moan vibrated his throat.

“I hate you,” Dean said, his voice rough from sleep and creeping arousal. “I hate you so damn much, you beautiful...bilingual...frickin’ _breathtaking..._ bastard.” Kisses were peppered on Castiel’s jaw in the pauses, and finally, one landed where Castiel ached for it.  

It started out slow, just the act of exploring each other’s hot mouths, but as soon as Dean reached for something and that stupid opening riff started playing, the kiss got heavier, denser with their shared breaths.

“I hate this song,” panted Castiel.

“Your dick says otherwise,” smirked Dean.

“Call it Pavlovian, I don’t know, but…” The rest of the sentence went forgotten as Castiel was rendered unable to speak by Dean’s tongue, only it wasn’t tangled with his own.

A lot of things went forgotten then, such as why Castiel ever resented moving in with a noisy but gorgeous stranger, why he ever convinced himself that he hated Dean, and most importantly, why he ever hated that wonderful song.

He hoped the pillow at Gilda’s didn’t miss his ass too much.

 


End file.
